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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753761">Landline // Phone Guy x Reader</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachmuffins/pseuds/peachmuffins'>peachmuffins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Five Nights at Freddy's</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Azrael is 27 even though it's unimportant, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Five Nights at Freddy's 1, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Other, Phone Guy and Scott Cawthon are NOT the same person, Phone Guy is like... 29?, Possessed Animatronics (Five Nights at Freddy's), Reader is 24, Reader-Insert, can this be considered a crack fic, joke fanfic, no beta readers we die like phone guy in night four, they just have the same name shh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:07:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachmuffins/pseuds/peachmuffins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hello, hello? Welcome to your new summer job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A place where fantasy and fun come to life... until midnight. You, as the nightguard, will be watching over the restaurant and anything else inside of it. That includes the seemingly haunted animatronics that just so happen to walk around at night. But don't worry! You've got an employee who worked in the office before you did to show you the ropes! Over the phone, of course.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Azrael Moone &amp; Phone Guy (Five Nights at Freddy's), Azrael Moone &amp; Reader, Phone Guy (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Landline // Phone Guy x Reader</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I, Peachy, would like to make it clear that I only wrote this as a joke. Yes, the 5000+ word first chapter is a part of a joke fanfic that I came up with in a call with my friends back in Dec. 2020. Will I still make it the best I can, though? Absolutely. I've already put in too much effort to back down now. Have fun and enjoy the story to the best of your ability (even though I named Phone Guy "Scott").</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You take a deep breath and look through the glass doors of the restaurant. It’s much darker than you ever remember it being when you were a kid. You adjust your hat and brush your slightly oversized uniform off before sticking your hand in your pocket to fish for the key you had been given.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First day at my new job… At Fazbear’s.” You pull the slightly worn key out of your pocket and stick it into the keyhole, turning it slowly as you take a breath. “Here we go.” You push the door open, nearly forgetting to pull your key out of the hole before you step in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, newbie’s finally here.” A gruff voice huffs quietly somewhere off to your left side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What-- Who are you?” You look around but you can’t see anyone at first. The voice speaks again, making you jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Janitor. My shift ended thirty minutes ago, but the boss wanted to make sure you knew where to go so he told me to stay.” You spin to look at your left side again and finally manage to see the man in the shadows. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why doesn’t he have any lights on…?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh. Um..." You aren't sure what to say so you stop speaking, avoiding making a fool of yourself before your first night is even officially started. The man pulls a flashlight from a loop on what looks like a toolbelt and turns it on with a click. Suddenly it’s a bit lighter in the room and you can see the animatronics on stage in the faint light. It makes you shiver. As a kid, they had always seemed so friendly and inviting. You could never pick an exact favorite. One of the animatronics, Chica the Chicken, catches your eye in the warm glow of the cheap flashlight. It’s not a surprise that she does, since her cupcake and bright yellow coloring always caught your eye when you used to come here. Her motherly nature drawing you and other children alike to wherever she was in the room… now she seems to be staring at you with a glare that makes you feel hatred you're unable to shake off. It's oddly unsettling, even with her redesign. Something about it seems too real. You swear her eyes follow you when you move forward a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, this way.” The janitor gestures his light in the direction of the hall to your right before starting to walk down it. You follow at a quick pace, checking your watch. It’s only a few minutes until your shift starts. It doesn’t take long for you to get to an open office door. You peek your head inside. It’s… fairly disorganized. You don’t really mind for just the night, but you scrunch your nose up at the thought of anyone working like this for six hours straight every day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Um, so I’m here until six, right?” You turn to look at the janitor and he’s already halfway down the hallway, on his way to leave. You almost call after him to complain, but he had already shown you to your office as he said he would. You take a step into the office and kick aside an empty cup of soda. You check your watch again. “Almost 12 am, here we go.” You boot up the computer in front of you and you’re greeted with security cam feed. The faint buzzing and static of the cameras was a nice ambiance for the small room that you were in. It was much too quiet without it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the clock hits 12, the vibe of the entire restaurant seems to change quickly. You shiver, a chill going down your spine. There's creaking outside your office, followed by the loud ringing of the phone at your side. You let out an involuntary yelp before slapping your hand over your mouth and scrambling to grab the bulky phone, holding it to your ear with a shaking hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello? Hello, hello?" You're too afraid to say anything in response. Instead, you try to slow your heartbeat as the man on the other end speaks. "Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact." The man pauses for a moment, and you took the opportunity to switch the cams and look at Pirate Cove. You study the scene for a moment, seeing the "out of order" sign. How long has Foxy been out of order? "I'm actually in a different room, right now, um... checking things and making sure that they're running alright…" You stop listening as he starts to mumble, thinking more about the fact that the fox animatronic is broken. His cove had always been the most fun to sit at since he told stories about being a pirate. He seemed the most human-like of them all, other than maybe Chica. A lot of kids were scared of Foxy, though. His design was just so unsettling in the wrong lighting. And in the right lighting. "So," you're brought out of your thoughts by the phone guy clearing his throat, "I know that your job can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mhm." You hum in response, mostly out of habit. It's silent for a long time and you start to become concerned. "Um, a-are you alright?" You ask, finding your voice. There's a very sudden clatter on the other end and your heart stops. Was he hurt somehow? If it was by someone who broke in while you weren't looking, you’re definitely fired. "Phone... Guy?" You cringe at the nickname. Since he seems to be in a higher position than you, maybe calling him “sir” would have been better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry! Sorry. Um, I-I'm not used to people actually being on the other end. My name is Scott. I'm the last nightguard who worked there. I'm, uh… yeah." Scott trails off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm Y/N." You smile shakily, although you know that he can’t see it and you’re only doing it to calm your own nerves. “Go on, I’m listening.” You click back to the stage on the cams and watch the unmoving animatronics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, okay. Alright, let's see…” You can hear papers rustling on the other end. “First there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, it's kind of a legal thing, you know. Um, ‘Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life.'" You sit back in your chair for a moment and spin it around to look at the bright yellow lockers behind you. What's in them, you have no clue and after seeing how just this part of the office is… you don't really want to check. You shift uncomfortably, the wire of the phone rubbing against the side of your arm. It would be alright, if not for the low-quality uniform. "'Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced.’" It takes you about a full four seconds to realize the implications of what Scott just said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now that might sound bad, I know, but there's really nothing to worry about," Scott reassures, likely hearing the worry in your voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It doesn't sound like there's nothing to worry about.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"You think?" You murmur, spinning back to look at the cams again. “Sounds pretty bad to me. How would I get hurt that badly, anyway? It’s not like someone’s gonna go that far to steal some pizza cutters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, that’s… Well uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit </span>
  <em>
    <span>quirky </span>
  </em>
  <span>at night. I don’t blame them, though. They’re forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years without baths. I’d be a bit irritable too." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do they not get cleaned?" You flip to the security cam for the kitchen, but it doesn't seem to work. It’s just filled with static and a little note at the top stating, “camera disabled, audio-only”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not, uh... Not really. Most employees are too afraid to even get near them. Let alone clean them. The janitors don’t like being alone with them." </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gross. No wonder they used to get so many complaints back in the day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hm." You make a mental note to talk to your boss about concerns with the cleanliness here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Remember that these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect despite how unclean they may be, right?" Scott gets back on topic and waits for a response to what seems to be a hypothetical question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right." You want to get this night over with as soon as possible. It's just too creepy, and with the man on the phone listing off various things that make it even creepier... Maybe you should have applied for the day shift. At least the animatronics would have looked more friendly, and your childhood could have stayed intact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay." You fall silent again, listening to the sound of Scott talking as you absentmindedly stare at the screen. "So, just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit." You glance to your left as if looking at the phone would make you hear what he said differently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They tend to </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> You're suddenly on high alert (well, more so than before… if that was even possible). "Scott, tell me I heard you wrong." You check the stage again. Would they move while you're staring at them? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You… didn't." Scott cleared his throat. "Uh, they're left in some kind of free-roaming mode at night. Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long, you know." So you definitely heard him right. You weren't hallucinating, then. "Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was The Bite of '87." You remember hearing about that about 6 years ago when you were just barely out of high school for a year. A security guard in a different restaurant. They were shut down pretty quickly after that. "Amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wouldn’t they just be mentally and physically paralyzed forever?" You try to think back to the stories you had read from the victim’s family. You don't remember any of it, but maybe that’s for the best. Scott doesn't respond to your question, and you assume it's because of some sort of confidentiality thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, now concerning </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won't recognize you as a person." Great. "They'll p-most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on." You wonder for a split second what he was about to say before he cut himself off. Hopefully, it was unimportant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't see how that's a very big probl--" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's… against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. They'll probably try to,” Scott pauses to find a way to phrase what he’s about to say, “forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit." Scott says it with less intensity than it should probably be said with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh my God." You stare at the bunny animatronic on the screen. "It-- You'd just be able to get me out though… right?" Your hand is cramping from holding the phone for so long. You try your best to ignore it for now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Um, maybe if the suits weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices... especially around the facial area. You could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort…" Scott pauses, taking a breath, "and death." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh." You squeeze your eyes shut with a sigh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is the last time I apply for a job because of nostalgia. Never again. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“That’s how I’d get hurt that badly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again after you get stuffed into the suit would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask. And the blood that stains the floor, maybe..." Scott laughs a little. It sounds forced, but you don’t take that into account at first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why did you laugh at that? This- There's no way this is funny to you." How is he so desensitized to these things? It scares you if you're being honest. This whole situation does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've worked here for a while. You get used to things like this." Scott responds. You shake your head a little in disbelief. You really don't understand how anyone could get used to something like this. "Y-Yeah, they usually don't tell you these things when you sign up if it makes you feel any better." Scott sympathizes. You finally switch which hand you're holding the phone with, unable to ignore the painful cramping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No kidding." You huff softly, checking Pirate Cove again. Subtle anxiety courses through you once again as you fully grasp the situation you're in. This job is a death trap. "This is gonna be hell, isn't it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'd say that you could come to get me if you need me but, uh, that isn't really allowed," a long silence follows before Scott adds, "and it might be best if you just… stay where you are. For safety reasons.” Another pause. “Not like you’re in danger or anything." You glance over at the clock that sits next to the computer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It's 2 am already?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But hey, first day should be a breeze. I have to do some maintenance in the back and I'll need both of my hands, so I'll chat with you tomorrow." The thought that Scott isn’t in as much danger, if any, makes you a slight bit upset. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not seriously leaving me,” After a few split seconds of thought, you tack on, “with all that on my first night here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry, Y/N. I still have to finish my last week, though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I guess that's fair.” You don’t really think that it is, but you keep your mouth shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power." Scott gives a very short and vague recap of what he had gone over in the last hour and a half. "I think that's it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks, Scott. Have a good night." It sounds half-hearted, but you really can't muster anything else. Not after all that information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, it is sort of my job, ha…" Awkward and tense silence fills the whole pizzeria. "Alright, good night." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Night." The phone clicks and you wait a moment before putting it back in its place. You look over at the clock again. It's only 2:21… </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is going to be such a long night. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The room is filled with just the buzzing of the cameras once again. You can feel yourself starting to drift off, if only slightly. Night owl or not, working during late hours was and never will be your strongest area. You occasionally switch between cams to get a look at the restaurant. There isn’t really much going on and through the static, you catch a glimpse of the rules in the east hall corner. You can barely read them, but it seems like they’ve stayed the same since the last time you went to a Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza (other than the addition of, “don’t touch Freddy”).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After more than a few minutes of nearly falling asleep at your desk, you hear louder static than normal coming from the computer. It startles you awake and you focus your blurry vision on the screen. The feed had gone dead only a few seconds ago, and just a screen full of black and white static sits in front of you. You, still half asleep, click through the various cameras that you have access to. All of them are nothing but static.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell?” You straighten your posture and tap on the screen a few times. After a few seconds, the feed comes back. It leaves you with both a feeling of relief since you won't have to explain broken cameras to the boss and because all three animatronics are there on… stage... Wait. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chicken and bear.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Where’s Bonnie?” Now you </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>know that Scott wasn’t lying. It isn’t just some scare tactic to get new nightguards to listen. No, these animatronics are moving. You frantically check through all the areas and once you land on the dining room, you see the bunny standing there. He stares up at the camera and goes still as if he knows it’s there. You never thought that the funniest animatronic could look so frightening. Threatening, even. He was always the one with the awful dad jokes and cool guitar. You’re starting to think that maybe there’s more to the animatronics walking around at night than just their servos possibly locking up if they don’t. You look over at the clock again. It’s not even 3 am yet. You check the stage cam to make sure Chica is still in place. You leave it there and sit back in your chair. It squeaks loudly, making you jump. It takes you a moment to get back on to the thought you had before. “Okay, okay. Bonnie… moved. Scott told you this would happen. If he comes to the door, just close it. It’s that simple. Okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not much happens for the rest of the night, thankfully. You’re able to calm your nerves a lot because of it. Chica moves off the stage and ends up camping in the hall by the restrooms for the rest of the night, while Bonnie moves back and forth through the dining room, backstage, and the west hall. You did almost lose it, though, when you heard Bonnie’s heavy footsteps. The bell chimes through the restaurant at exactly 6 am.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank God. Woo… first night.” You almost scream from… some emotion. You don’t know why. But you do know that as soon as you get home, you’re going to pass out immediately. You nearly collapse standing up. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>you nearly slip on a crumpled paper. You cannot work in these conditions, as a minimum-wage security guard in the early 90s. You just can’t. So, even being as tired as you are, you start to organize the office. Maybe it’s just your way to pretend that the animatronics aren’t still out in the halls. After 6 am it’s not like they can move on their own anymore, so you’re sort of afraid of going out there and seeing Bonnie in the middle of the hallway and not on the stage. Besides that, though, this office is disgusting. Cobwebs are everywhere and there’s even an empty cup in the drawer. Did Scott say he worked in this office before you? Because you have a few words for the man if you ever talk to him again. Not all of them are about the state of the office, either. By the time you make it look as clean as you can without a broom, it’s 7:37 am. Over an hour and a half. You groan. Couldn’t the janitor from earlier do his job in this room specifically? Whatever, it has been done and you want to go home. The pizzeria opens at 8:30 and you don’t want to be around for when the kids start flooding in. Not after the night you just had. You turn off the computer you had accidentally left on before quickly making your way out of the office. You barely make it two seconds down the hall with your head down before--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, newbie!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why do people keep calling me that? I know it’s true but please.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, hello!” You push down your irritation and smile at one of the day shift employees, who is standing at the end of the hall waving at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was the first night on the job?” Your smile becomes even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>forced than before. If that was even possible. You really don’t want to talk about how you had seen the animatronics move and how you were afraid they’d kill you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aha… great. It was wonderful, even.” You’re now face to face with the worker and they’re giving you a sympathetic look. You can see now that they’re holding a coffee and still wrapped straw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look tired.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, really?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not used to working the graveyard shift. Later shifts around 10 pm are the ones I’m more used to.” You yawn, as if on cue. “I’ll get used to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should take my coffee. It’s sort of tradition for the dayshift workers to get Scott coffee since he usually hangs out, but we sort of forgot that you’d also be here. Well, I guess you aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be here this late and people usually don’t stay after 6 am. Whatever, um... I haven’t drank out of it, so.” They hold their coffee cup out to you and you look down at it. It’s an iced coffee with… a lot of creamer in it. As if they read your mind, “Sorry, I don’t like the bitterness. You might not like how I get it made. I feel bad so you should definitely take it. I can always buy another on my break.” At their insistence, you take the coffee and straw they’re holding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, uh…” You pause, not knowing their name. They look confused before they realize why you had stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Azrael. Call me Az.” Slightly less irritated than before, thanks to the free coffee and genuinely friendly coworker, you lean against the wall and try to strike up a conversation with Azrael. You do need more friends… and Az </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>someone who works at the same shitty establishment as you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Az, did you say you get coffee for Scott every day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm! He usually passes out in the dining room before the pizzeria opens, and we let him sleep for a while cause the poor guy never seems to get any sleep. We have a blanket in the back for him and everything, since it gets a little cold this early in the morning.” Az hums for a moment, running a hand through their hair to fix it. “Hm. Why do you ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, great, he’s still here.” You clear your throat. “Anyways,” ripping the paper off the straw and stuffing it into your pocket, you continue on a different topic, “what’s it like working the day shift?” You shove the straw into the straw hole and stir the coffee a bit before taking a sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, the kids are pretty cool! And hearing the animatronics perform is always nice. It sucks that they don’t move like they used to when I was a kid, but what are you gonna do?” You would agree if you hadn’t watched the animatronics you once loved get only a few feet away from the room you were in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. So, what do you do here?” You try to change the topic again. “Your uniform looks pretty colorful and… merchandise based, compared to the others.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yeah. The pins and mini Foxy plush sticking out of my pocket gave it away, huh?” Azrael laughs. “I work the prize counter. Prizes aren’t fantastic since the budget for this place is very low. All the really good stuff costs money, not tickets… I wish this place wasn’t such a cash grab. Fazbear Entertainment has never been the best with being consumer-friendly though.” You nod. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is something you can agree with. “Yeah, I’m the merchandise dealer. It’s kind of fun because somehow, the boss allows me to bring home a plush or a few pins every month. He even let me take a sweatshirt home one time too, back in the old restaurant. He was in a good mood then, though. That was before all the, uh… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Freddy’s investigation stuff</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Azrael whispers the last three words. "It's really unfortunate since that was his first experience owning a Fazbear restaurant." You assume that they’re talking about the old restaurant, the one you never really got to see since you were at the tail end of being a teenager during the time it was around. Neither of you press that subject further and it leads you into an awkward silence for a second. Azrael was definitely carrying the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Foxy your favorite?” You gesture at the plushie peeking out of your new friend’s (?) apron pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Foxy was always my favorite as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I think I have a new appreciation for Chica now that I’m older. She’s just so motherly, y’know? Plus her voice is really nice to listen to. Scott still really likes Foxy as a character, but I just think his plushie is the cutest one, haha.” You glance down at your watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I totally get what you mean, Az. Um, doesn’t the pizzeria open at 8:30?” You take another sip of your coffee. “It’s 8:02 right now and I assume you have some things to do. I don’t want to keep you.” Azrael’s eyes widen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already? I’m so sorry, but I have to go.” Az rubs their left eye and looks anywhere but your face. “Feel free to stay to speak with Scott. We could always talk later if you drop by. Or if you ever want to stay after your shift ends, I’m sure the old man wouldn’t mind having some company until 7:25, which is when I personally show up.” Az nearly rushes away before turning back around. “Name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y/N.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, bye Y/N! See you later, hopefully!” And then Azrael is off to go do work before they open up the restaurant. Alone again. You take a deep breath and push yourself off the wall. You step into the dining room and you can smell the faint scent of pizza from the kitchen. You study the room. It almost looks friendly again and if you hadn’t been here at night you wouldn’t even see anything as different. But the animatronics (back on stage through what you’re going to assume for your own health is the day shift moving them) still look like they’re filled with hatred. You shake your head and look at the tables instead. Just like Az said, a man is sitting there, his head laying on the table. He has short-ish brown hair that’s a little longer in the back, and he’s definitely sleeping. A blanket that looks like a fluffier, less scratchy version of the Pirate Cove curtains is draped over his shoulders. Taking one more sip of your coffee, you walk to the man’s side and tap his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scott. Hey.” He shifts a little and mumbles something. You try again, slightly louder this time. “Scott, wake up.” The way the man shoots up makes you flinch. “Woah, hey! Scott, it’s just me. Y/N, the nightguard you talked to last night.” Scott’s eyes finally land on you. He has green eyes. Or, it looks like he does until you get a clearer look. His right eye is split down the middle, one-half green and the other half brown. In his left eye, there are a few small spots of brown around his pupil and you swear that one of them looks like a heart at a certain angle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, what…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The nightguard. I just wanted to thank you for warning me and, um,” You shake away the concern and guilt that slowly creeps into your thoughts. “Next time you work in an office, I-I suggest keeping it clean? Or at least… cleaning it up for the-the people who work in there next.” You wonder if he has nightmares often, or if something else had happened to him in the past. “Also, cool eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, and what… what do you mean?” Scott yawns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your past office? There were empty cups and paper and like… a lot of trash everywhere. The bin was full too.” You don’t want to drop so much on him since he’s clearly tired, so you hold back on the whole, “leaving me in an open office with limited power and possibly killer animatronics on the loose” speech you had planned after he hung up. You start to feel worse than you already did. You barely even know the guy and you just scared him awake during one of the only times he seems to get sleep. “Well, it’s fine. I cleaned it all a-and there’s no reason why I’m over here. I guess I was just… yeah. Okay.” You stop yourself from apologizing profusely and point to the coffee Az had brought in for Scott. “Azrael brought you coffee, um… yeah. You should wake yourself up and get home for some sleep before the kids get here. You look nearly dead.” You grimace. “Alright, bye.” You awkwardly spin around and leave. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Great first impression, Y/N. Good job. You just told him he looks nearly dead.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, bye?” Not stopping to look over at Scott, you leave the pizzeria and start to walk home. Fortunately, you don’t live that far away and it’s a nice walking distance, only taking about 25 minutes to get to the restaurant on foot. It was still annoying since you are extremely tired. When you get home, you put your coffee in the fridge and pretty much collapse on the couch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Night one, done. Now for… all the other ones. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You fall asleep in only a few seconds.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>wow im so sorry im putting effort into this i--</p><p>i hope you enjoyed??</p></blockquote></div></div>
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